The Sin
by Joelcoxriley
Summary: Shealyne couldn't believe it. The nightmare of the Dark Brotherhood has ended, and she is not standing alone, for the traitor stands by her side. And she is just as guilty as he in his crime. Struggling to adapt and defeat their demons, the pair now have something worse to be concerned: she is pregnant with the traitor's child.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This was suggested by a friend, and I was unable to get this out of my head. What if Mathieu succeeded in slaughtering the Dark Brotherhood? What if he became a father? What would that mean for the future of the Dark Brotherhood? Questions, questions. Contains Bellamont/OC. Same pairing as in Flesh and Soul. Either way, I hope you enjoy!**

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It was over. Finally over. The dank musk of the Night Mother's Crypt no longer smelled of an ancient air, but with the thick scent of blood. The bodies of the Matron's Black Hand lay cold and stiff, their once warm blood now laying in drying pools upon the hard stone.

The air was still and stale, and nothing but a slow, wavering exhale broke the Void's silence as gentle air passed through the woman's cracked lips. It was over. Slowly, her red irises glanced from fallen comrade to comrade. In many way, she was just as terrible as the man that ended all this madness with slaughter. It was her fault her friends and fellow family members lay dead upon the Crypt's hard floor. The reason was as clear as one stepping out of mist. She had betrayed them. As did he.

She had convinced him that slaying the Unholy Matron was futile-for metal nor magic could harm her. He did not yield, not at first. Only after his arms had become heavy and his breath had become strained and ragged did he stop, chilled dagger seeping with ice that was drenched in blood up to the hilt. His gloved hands were covered in the blood of their family members, and his black robe was covered in dirt and grime. Though the sweat had run into his eyes and blurred his vision, it did not stop the vile curses and damnations that had spilled from his mouth.

The Night Mother had stood unconquered in all her unholy glory as her dead eyes looked upon her traitorous children, yet she judged not. Rather, the Matron had looked upon her dead children akin to pity and disdain, for they were not strong enough to survive the bottleneck event. Now, only the fit stood in triumph. Yet no matter how tall they stood, they could not topple their Mother from her atrocious throne. He had tried with all his might. She, however, had just watched, tired of violence and death. She had just wanted the nightmare to end, and he had brought it to a close. Save for their Mother. The children could never have the strength to harm their Mother. The Mother could never have the heart to directly harm her children. So she had used the traitor's need for vengeance to weed out the weak.

The Mother had told her remaining children cryptic words which they did not understand-not wanted to believe-for they feared its hidden meaning. The pair had wanted nothing to do with the Dark Brotherhood, and had abandoned it. However, as the pair of ex Silencers lost the protection of their once infamous family, they had suddenly found themselves vulnerable-and struggling to survive within a seemingly unfamiliar society as they tried to blend.

The pair had remained together, retaining an almost pack mentality from their lives that seemed far too long ago-and neither had any intent on going back to that life of murder-intentionally. Slips in breaking their habits would be bound to happen, and they surely will.

Many times her lover had lost his temper, cursing and threatening others or even attempting to assault them. At times, Mathieu's actions appeared to be unprovoked by any visible means, yet triggered by the trauma of his past-which Shealyne had struggled to aid him in dealing with. The scars were deep, and she doubted if he would be able to fully heal and get passed his violence and rage.

Time had passed, and Shealyne had realized-something akin to horror and disbelief-that she had become with child. But it was not possible, rather impossible, for she was stricken with vampirism. She had never heard of a vampire reproducing, not without biting a victim and injecting venom. No, it was unheard of. She certainly could not be gravid!

Many times she had thought herself a cruel partner, for she knew how much Mathieu had wanted a blood family, and she was an undead. It was cruel to taunt him with fruitless possibilities. Yet, if she truly was with child...she was terrified of the Night Mother's word. What if a darker future was in store for their possible child? What is Sithis had claimed the traitor's child, yet to even leave its mother's womb? It was quite worrisome indeed.

Her stomach had began to swell, and by now their fears-and excitement, hope, even-were revealed. Yet, with new hope came new stresses. They were struggling, and wandering, wary of the Imperial Legion that would surely want them executed, as well as paranoid of any remnants of the Dark Brotherhood hunting them down. Surely they would have no mercy for the newly reformed family. And the future of their unborn child that was conceived by a vampire and the traitor of the Dark Brotherhood was not certain.

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**Thank you for reading! Not sure when I will update this, but for those of you reading To Make a Dead Heart Beat, I will update that story within two weeks or less. If you have any opinions or ideas feel free to express them. Thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2

A short little chapter. Most of these chapters will probably be short. Either way, Shea only belongs to me, and I own whoever else her biological family is. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading/supporting!

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Get to the border. Get to the border. Get to the border.

That was the only thought running through Shealyne's head. That was the only thing that mattered. Get passed the border, and they were free.

One step at a time. One step at a time. One step at a time.

They were so close. She and Mathieu were so close to freedom-to safety-out of reach from the cold decrepit hands of the Night Mother. Yet the trek had been grueling and slow, for rain had muddied the ground and made their clothing cling, pronouncing the woman's growing stomach.

The rain had caused Mathieu to hang his head low, though that was not the only reason. An Imperial Checkpoint was up ahead. The pair did not want to gain the attention of their hunters, and going off the road was not only dangerous, but suspicious.

The male had pretended not to notice the Legion Soldiers, unknowingly plotting and planning. How many were there? Two? Three? How much were the odds in his favor? Not by much. Not by much.

It was then the pair had been halted, journey held on pause as the Imperials searched through their belongings for any ill won goods. The pair had remained quiet, passive, on edge and wooden.

Mathieu had calculated the odds, ran scenarios through his head if the men would notice them-notice their ill standings in society. The soldiers were strong, and powerful, but clumsy and slow to faster adversaries. If they would unsheath their glimmering blades to attack, he would need to be faster. The Silencer's blade hand had clenched and unclenched, jaw slightly grinding as he planned his course of action. An Imperial sword takes longer to draw out than a dagger. He would have the advantage in speed. Just unsheath the dagger and plunge the short iron into the exposed chin of the closest man-a weak point in the armor where soft flesh was exposed.

One down. One to go.

Shealyne had attempted to smile upon the men, though had been careful of her fangs. They had smiled back upon seeing the early stages of her motherhood, and had wished her well. These were dangerous times to give life to a child.

Don't ask questions. Don't ask questions. Don't ask questions.

The second man would be most difficult for Mathieu. His brother in arms would be dead upon the ground, blood erupting from his impaled chin like an enraged waterfall. Hot blood moving under a dead heart. With luck, the man would be in shock at the death of his friend, and would falter just enough to allow the Breton a second attack, allow him enough time to remove the blade and strike. Though he doubted it. He would rather blind the second by flicking fresh blood upon the man's eyes, blinding him. Then would come the killing blow, and rain would run rampant with blood.

Beautiful.

Mathieu was snapped out of his thoughts by a soldier motioning towards his arm, the Breton looking down to see his arm torn open, a bandage stained with blood. They had inquired what had caused that wound, and if he required assistance.

A small smile graced his lips, cold and merciless masked with warmth and amiability.

Bellamont claimed the assailant was a wild dog.

Do not let the eyes betray. Do not let the eyes betray. Do not let the eyes betray.

The men had looked upon the Breton, whose smile was laced in a dare, daring them to attack first. He had already won. They would start the fight, and he would end it.

Shealyne had cleared her throat, uneasy, the noise penetrating the silence despite the falling rain. The Imperial Soldiers had then returned their belongings, and wished them safe passage.

The pair had then passed the checkpoint, and passed the Cyrodiilic Border into Hammerfell.

They were safe-at least from the Night Mother's Unholy grasp. Or so they had come to believe. Now, only one thought had run endlessly through Shealyne's mind.

Get to Sentinel. Get to Sentinel. Get to Sentinel.

Sentinel could not seem farther enough away. And what was worse, she was not sure if they were making the right choice to return to High Rock. Her homecoming was not something her family would rejoice in, gravid or no. And she would have to face her greatest enemy of all: her Mother.


End file.
